


Notches by the Door

by Payasita



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Found Family, Growing Up, One Shot, Post Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Payasita/pseuds/Payasita
Summary: Nebulous post-game everyone lives situation, marking change and growth in a visual way.partly inspired by the height battle i lost with my own brother and cousins a long time ago
Comments: 30
Kudos: 236





	Notches by the Door

The Hollow Knight--"Hollow," now, their title declawed and made succinct in a way they never imagined anything about themself could be--was adjusting to the concept of change at what must be an agonizingly slow pace for those around them. So many years that were not years spent in omniscient stasis affected their sense of time; they'd watched Hallownest fossilize and the Blue Lake drain steadily over the City without ever actually losing a drop. Things simply did not change after they'd been dead long enough. They'd thought themself dead to that degree too, before She had finally snapped through their shell and proven them wrong, changing them in ways that bubbled and boiled and tore and oozed and _hurt._ In the face of that, how could silence and stillness be a _bad_ thing?

The process of remembering better things than either of those happened over a long adjustment period. In the early days of reconstruction and home settlement, Hollow often had entire days, sometimes weeks, where they were too frightened to move at all. Their sister seemed to understand, in some way, though she was at a loss on how to deal with that. They'd seen what became of her life in the glorified snowglobe that was Hallownest post-King. She was not like Hollow, she had never _once_ stopped moving. But even Hornet, in all her action, had been trapped in a stationary existence. She'd been running, but effectively running _in place_ for years or decades or centuries. 

Still, she took to the newness of growth better than they did. The growth of the population, the growth of plant life that reclaimed the cracks and potholes scoring the ancient ground, and other kinds of growth that were precious, and had been stolen from their siblings so long ago that they hadn't even seemed to remember what they'd lost. 

It was most obvious in their smallest sibling, the littlest remaining Ghost of the Abyss, and in their dearest friend, the child of the Nightmare Heart. Hollow had been raised well, fed well, trained well, allowed sleep and progress in their morbid approximation of a childhood. Little Ghost had none of that for themself, _Hollow_ had made sure of that with that one unforgivable decision not to look back again. Who knows how long they remained in the Abyss, shell cracked from the fall as void and soul slowly mended it over time before they could make their escape again. Void could not starve, and a bug cannot molt without proper nutrition. They'd unknowingly been stunted even before the magic of the seal. 

Now, though, the finest warrior of ex-Hallownest could make up for lost time. They could, and did, rest properly in a nest of found soft things. They could, and did, take meals hunted by their own nail, or gifted by their sister after her own daily excursions. (A spider in a hostile world spends her life eating whatever she could find quickly, and raw. She seemed to have no inclination to break these habits. Hollow wondered if she even knew doing so was an option. One of the first decisions they'd made for themself, possibly ever, was the decision to share a bit of the unearned luxury of their past by cooking for their siblings. They had never learned how to cook properly, but such a thing could be taught, even if their only tutor was the rather brutal process of trial and error.)

Little Ghost would often come home with the Nightmare child in tow, both scraped and dirty from play. The little nightmare grew in spurts, and it felt like no time at all had passed when he'd finally matched Ghost in height, not counting the wings. It'd been an abrupt realization that Ghost was growing too, when Hollow looked at them one day and noted that Ghost was again slightly taller. 

Hollow remembered something, so old and from a lifetime so different from their imprisonment, that it felt like they were remembering someone else's life. Someone who had a mother, once, before she'd decided enough was enough with them, and retreated to self-imposed exile in a Queen's garden turned wild grove. That naive mother once had a ritual, when the thing she told herself was her child had been small and new. Every once in a while, she'd stand them by a door frame, and etch a small chalk mark into the wall aligned with the top of their head. They hadn't understood the purpose of this ritual until years later, when they looked back at the markings by the doorframe and noticed they all reached different heights. They'd been several times taller than the highest one when they'd found that door frame again. 

It'd been pointless for them. They were a tool, honed more than raised. But here, the memory felt like it offered their little family the chance to appreciate something important. 

Ghost's nail was pale ore. It would never dull, never crack, and would only tarnish if not occasionally cleaned. When Hollow gestured to borrow it a moment, they acquiesced with some hesitance. They also acquiesced, now with open confusion, when Hollow stood them still by the entryway of their little Dirtmouth home. They didn't flinch when Hollow lined the flat end of the nail with the top of their head, and etched a mark on the wall behind them. Ghost turned to look at it, understanding nothing. Then, Hollow bade the little Nightmare line up next to it. It was an awkward process trying to line him up while he flew low enough to the ground that his tail touched the floor, and the child wasn't the most agreeable creature in general, but Hollow eventually got a record of his height, too. 

Ghost looked between them, comparing. They were about the same, give or take a centimeter. The second they understood, they stood flush with the wall again, insistently reaching up to pat their nail held in Hollow's hand like a pencil, and then at their own horns. Hollow paused, and then shook their head. No, they would _not_ count their horns. That wasn't fair. Ghost seemed to openly sulk back off to whatever they'd been doing, followed by the little Nightmare, who now cackled at their expense. 

Really, now. Children felt things so strongly. 

-

Ghost and the Nightmare seemed to be locked in an ongoing height race, passing each other at odd intervals. When someone felt like enough time had passed, Hollow would measure them at their designated spots. Inevitably, one of the children would celebrate, and the other would sometimes try and cheat. Tiptoes and floating too far off the ground were quickly banned. 

Ghost's first real molt had been a momentous occasion. They'd all but demanded to be measured again, and were practically bouncing at the new difference. Not even so much the new difference between themself and the Nightmare, but the difference between their own height pre and post shedding. This had been the point that Hornet finally noticed what they'd been doing, as Ghost's enthusiasm in showing her hadn't given her a choice. She looked at Hollow, vaguely amused. Hollow looked at Ghost's nail in their hand, then at their smallest sibling, then back at her. They ushered her to stand in her own spot next to the ranking. 

"Ah--no. I'm good, thank you," she quickly declined.

Hollow insisted, pointing with their chin, and nudging Ghost. Ghost seemed to agree, bouncing on their heels and pointing to the wall. Come now, she was a sibling, too. If even the Nightmare child could be a good sport about it, so could she. 

"Oh, _fine,"_ she agreed at length, all but groaning it. Hollow hid their amusement with practiced ease, and took her height at the lowest point at the top of her mask. A new notch beside Ghost, three rows ascending in order. It was strange to have it laid out like that. For all their little sister was forced to grow up quickly and take on the mantle of protector, she really wasn’t all too far apart from Ghost. Hollow had the oddest urge, just then, to scoop her up in their arm like they often did with Ghost. They'd probably get another jab in the eye for it.

Hornet looked back at the wall, and squinted, clearly displeased about something. 

"...Why didn't you count the horns?"

Hollow huffed a silent breath, ignoring her. 

-

Hollow watched as growth manifested in more than just height. The Nightmare grew into its fangs, and speaking became easier for him. However, spending so much time alongside such a silent best friend seemed to instill little predilection for chatter into the child. The two appeared to understand each other just fine without. When the Nightmare would get agitated enough, he'd sometimes just _roar,_ small and raspy. It had little effect on Ghost, who would communicate either amusement or apology with only a tilt of their head, or a pat of their hand. 

On their part, the soft, strange void material that made up Ghost's body was finally beginning to harden, showing signs of where it'd soon segment into its approximation of carapace. They seemed to take a little _too_ well to having thicker skin than before, and even newly hatched, one could not ever have described Ghost as _careful._ They literally played with fire and ran with knives. Once, they came home with void visibly leaking from them, after a long excursion somewhere that the Nightmare child cryptically described as "A dance with the fools." Hollow had forced them to rest in their room until their soul patched their wounds, and then made them stay there for more time after that. Ghost did not take kindly to being grounded. Hollow couldn't tell if they were angry or ashamed, as they would not let their larger sibling near enough to read them. 

As for Hornet, she seemed genuinely surprised to find that she'd grown a few centimeters, the next time she allowed Hollow to measure her height by the door. She reasoned that she'd just stood straighter than she had before. Her excuse for the next time was that Hollow's etching must have a margin of error. They tried not to take offense to that. Hornet seemed determined to believe that she was just humoring them by continuing to agree to be measured. 

But she couldn't deny that she wasn't done growing forever. When she began showing signs of an upcoming molt, she thought the fading shell color and discomfort was some adverse reaction to the weather. Hollow had to physically stop her from going out to hunt the morning after that, though she'd actually tried to climb past them and had to be picked up like a grub. Hornet had not taken well to this. They weren't stabbed again for their efforts, but they did learn a few choice new curses in her native weaver tongue. The struggling stopped when she noticed she'd begun bleeding at the joints where she moved too much. 

There had been some panic, and Hollow had to stay with her, assuring as best as they could with no voice to offer context. It seemed it'd been so long since she first shed, that she genuinely could not remember what was happening, and thought her life was in danger. Ghost ran in behind them, concerned and scrambling to help keep her calm. It had really only taken a minute at most for her to figure out what was going on, but seeing their brash young sister so _afraid_ had felt like an eternity to Hollow. They had an irrational moment, then, where they vowed to ensure neither of their siblings ever had to feel so scared for themselves ever again. Hollow couldn't possibly protect their family from everything. But the depth of how much they wanted to _try_ shook them to their core. 

The molt had succeeded, which resulted in a few extra inches to Hornet's height, and some excited celebration from Ghost. Once their smallest sibling had left the room, Hornet admitted with a slight shake to her voice-- then quickly controlled,-- that she'd known some spiders to lose limbs when they shed. Hollow could only lightly tap their forehead to her's, either an apology or an attempt at comfort. They would take her height by the door later. 

-

Hollow was not immune to growth and change, either. Though they'd long been done with getting taller, they were certainly a better cook now than when they'd started learning. Their meals were even palatable.

-

The Nightmare child grew legs, and started to prefer using them over his wings. He and Ghost took up sparring together. Though Ghost was more combat skilled, the Nightmare would try to level the playing field with fire. The two were quickly and unanimously banned from sparring in town by the local populace. Hollow tried to stop fretting whenever they saw flashes of red and bursts of void magic over the Howling Cliffside. 

The realization that Hornet now came up to their midsection was certainly more sudden than her actual growth had been. She would resist and tease them for trying to measure her by the door, these days, insisting she was too old for all that. Hollow only leveled her with a look that they hoped came across as utterly unimpressed. If spending a few hundred years surviving the apocalypse didn't make her _too old_ to let them appreciate and record changes, neither did her being a contradictory _teenager._

-

When Ghost outgrew their nail, they retired it to a plaque by the door, to be occasionally used as a notching instrument by Hollow, and a decorative souvenir of Ghost's struggles beyond that. When Hornet started to outgrow her needle, she refused to acknowledge it. She had so little left to remember her mother by. Hollow mourned with her at the thought of having to one day leave it at Herrah's shrine, just another momento. What was a protector without her trusted weapon, after all? Did she even know that she didn't have to be one anymore? Did she know to want for anything else? Hollow did not begrudge her that struggle. They'd faced similar. Fate was not kind to those who decided they only had one purpose in life. All things had to end. All things had to change.

-

Ghost had somehow befriended the only remaining nailsmith in Hallownest, way back when. Even now as civilization began anew, that bug was still by far the _best_ nailsmith in the land. Hollow wondered how much Ghost had paid for their shiny new nail. There wasn't anymore pale ore to be found in the ruins, but Ghost still seemed unwilling to compromise on the quality of their weapon. 

Hollow wondered if they might one day like their old one. It was a deadly masterpiece, commissioned by their father directly. Meant to survive forevermore in pristine form, enduring his eternal, shining reign. Hollow certainly had no inclination to ever pick it up again. 

They learned later that the “nailsmith” had only made Ghost a new nail as a favor, and just this once. It seems he'd long since moved on to better things than forging, and had little desire to take it up again. Good for him. 

-

Hornet and Ghost would spar, too. The Nightmare child would choose who to cheer based entirely on who looked to currently have the advantage, little opportunistic devil that he was. 

Her needle broke during one of these matches, on one hot morning. Snapped right down the middle, gone brittle with time and use. Hornet wielded it more like a shortnail these days, and perhaps the new points of strain had finally worn it down. Hornet hadn't spoken much, that day. She'd disappeared around noon until the next morning, returning empty handed. Hollow was glad to see she could still traverse Deepnest just fine without her needle. 

She asked to help them prepare breakfast that day. They had much to teach her about proper cooking, but they had all the time in the world.

-

There was a stint of time in which the Nightmare child shot up past Ghost in height by over half a meter. His molts were quick affairs of burning the old shell off, and he'd recently gone through two in a short time. He did not let Ghost live this new difference down until they started catching up again. Those two always seemed to be in some sort of competition. 

The Nightmare child had also gained a new habit of humming to himself. The melody was strange and repetitive, and sounded a tad unsettling from their fire-dried throat. Ghost would often pester him to go adventuring with them, when they caught him doing that. 

-

As with the Dreamers, and as with Hornet's needle, sometimes change and progression meant the end of some things. Even with the hindsight of living several lifetimes frozen in time, it still didn't feel any easier. The old bug who Ghost liked to listen to on the road passed on one winter, and was buried next to a friend of his in the graveyard by the well. Ghost brought some very nice flowers to the grave, which quickly wound themselves around the stone and thrived in the soil. It seemed the graveyard might double as a meadow. 

The Nightmare child had offered his friend comfort that day, reminding them of how everything moved in cycles. Time and nature could be scary, but even grief would not last forever. The old bug was at peace, and the child seemed so sure that he'd gone with no lingering regrets. The Nightmare child often spoke so kindly and wisely of generally unpleasant things. He was even going by "Grimm," now.

-

Hornet was only a few inches away from matching Hollow. 

"I am coming for you, you know. Your blood may be of root, but mine is of _beast._ I will not be bested." 

Hollow marked her new notch on the wall, then rested their chin over the top of her head with a _clack._ She cried indignation, and shoved back at them. They did not budge, and went limp to further hinder her efforts. When Ghost walked in and noticed the struggle, they provided aid by way of rushing in to turn it into a dogpile.

Hollow would have probably shrieked if they'd been able, when Grimm swooped down on them all out of nowhere with an elbow drop.

-

Hornet spoke of leaving Hallownest, sometimes. Grimm did, too, but with more conviction. It seemed whenever his life was destined to end, he'd have to return to some family of his, and travel very far away to perform some ritual cycle. He and Ghost were still young, only soon to reach their respective prime forms. He probably wouldn't have to go very soon, but, Hollow had once heard something about the hottest candles burning fastest. That seemed relevant, somehow. 

Ghost seemed just as agreeable to the idea of travel, which made sense. The way they’d traversed all of old Hallownest in their youth in such a short time, Hollow was honestly surprised that they’d stayed put this long without complaint. 

Hollow kept down the selfish, irredeemable wish that things could just stay the same for a little longer. Hadn’t they all earned peace and family? Or was Hollow the only one who even wanted any of that, obsolete relic of a war-torn age that they were?

The house was cramped. They weren’t the only one anymore who needed to duck under doorways, but they were the only one left who didn’t complain about that.

-

Hornet and Ghost made plans. Ghost loved listening to stories from travelers, and would often buy up maps of far away places from anyone willing to sell. Before, those would line the walls in their room, a quilted estimation of what the world outside of Hallownest might look like. Now, they were being stowed away in a bag. 

Hornet had put off picking up a different weapon after her mother’s needle, but it seemed now she might need another. And she was far too practical to let sentimentality win out. Her new needle was long, wicked, and looked as dangerous as she did. Hollow was so proud. 

Grimm stoked the fires of their siblings’ dreams of adventure, weaving dramatic tales of places he could remember seeing from past lives. All the kingdoms and countries and islands and such that he spoke of were long dead, for his kind did not visit anywhere that still thrived. But he was still young enough yet, in this form, that he’d have a chance to go see some new civilizations while they still lived. 

Hollow made dinner that night, enjoying the lively chatter and company one last time. 

-

The next morning, Hollow measured them all by the door again, one last time. Hornet was the tallest of the young ones, as she’d always been. Ghost tried once again to cheat, but Hollow flicked their mask and gave them a stern look. Grimm snickered, but was not spared a similar treatment when he complained about “Not even really counting, honestly, I’m not one of your siblings.” 

“You’re only objecting because you’ve been shorter than Ghost for years, now.” Hornet quipped. 

“Please. I’m not going to be _indignant_ about falling behind to a creature with an ever-growing mother.” 

“So if you’ve been done growing, why do you still let us check?”

“Who said I was done?” He shot back, sore at her teasing. Hollow noted that his notch hadn’t moved in quite a while. No one’s had. 

“Hollow? Your arm--” Hornet got their attention.

Ah. It appeared they were a little shaky. How strange. Everyone was looking at them, now.

“...Ah...Are you done packing, yet?” She asked them. What?

Grimm looked between the two, the foremost expert among them at picking apart negative emotions. It was an uncanny talent of his. 

“I’d wager they thought we’d leave without them,” he said simply. Hornet and Ghost looked at each other, startled. “...Did neither of you remember to even _invite_ them?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary! Hollow, _of course_ you’re coming.” She must have seen something in their face, though, because she hesitated a moment. “...If you’d like, of course. If you’re not ready, we can wait, or make new plans.”

For the first time in a very, very long time, they stood rigid, too uncertain to move. 

It didn’t last too long. Hollow was no warrior any longer, but still moved with the speed of one when they lunged forward to pull their siblings into a hug. Grimm teleported out of the initial line of fire, but was yanked in by Ghost with a squawk. 

They did, in the end, offer their old nail to Ghost, before everyone set off together. Ghost accepted it with a determined set to their shoulders. They’d all protect each other, out there, in the ways they knew how. 

Before they left, Hornet stopped Hollow by the door, and picked up Ghost’s childhood nail. With them, she added one more row to the ranking, a single notch to complete the timeline.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in a manic rush this morning instead of getting better sleep
> 
> that one scene with the elbow drop was inspired by a piece of fanart i cant find and if anyone can help i'd like to credit it please? gotta go to work now tho bye
> 
> EDIT: thank you to the no fewer than 4 people cross platform that had this locked and ready within like an hour, yall are ON IT  
> this is the art: https://thecornermushroom.tumblr.com/post/612062037023064064/anon-do-you-have-any-siblings-cuz-that-already


End file.
